The Prince's Patch
by EstrellaGrace
Summary: Bella is seriously depressed and is saved one night by a well known stranger. That stranger is a prince and Bella's whole life turns around when that prince patches/imprints on her. Little does that prince know that Bella is quite the handful with a ferocity that cannot be tamed. Will she submit to the patch or will she overcome her destiny? Perhaps both.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight nor am I making money off this.

Chapter One

As I walk through the crowd downtown, I notice all of the different people surrounding me. Most everybody in the city has gathered to hear Prince Edward "Heir-to-the-Throne" Cullen speak to his subjects about gay rights, and as he speaks, I can't help but tune him out. I am not here to listen to the prince, for a distraction to occupy my churning thoughts.

I am not against the LGBT community or whatever, but my mind is clouded with misery and I really need to distract myself to delay the crying over the loss of my best friend, so I take a walk and happen to find the crowd.

I did not lose my best friend to Death, but instead to another lady. You see, males and females all over the world have been granted a "gift'' of being able to tell if you've found your soulmate; this is called patching. Patching comes from patching in a piece of their heart and therefore completing it, but really this is pretty much just love at first sight. Once the two people lock eyes, whether they be male or female or both, they become entranced and cannot separate from their patch without terrible consequences, and in some cases, death. Not that anyone of _them_ would even want to separate, seeing as they just found the love of their life, but sometimes one of them already has a partner. And sometimes that partner loved the guy, but the guy left anyway. And sometimes the young woman has a hard time coping with that seeing as the love of her life left her for somebody neither of them had ever met before, and sometimes that young woman has tremendous depression and her boyfriend was her only happy place so she goes into the city to mope around in public.

If you haven't figured it out by now, that person is me. I had lost my very best friend and boyfriend due to patching. I had confided everything to him, and even thought that I loved him, but he left me for some nameless teenager who "patched his heart". His name is Jacob Black and he held my heart kindly in his hand for all three years we had been together. Now my heart has just been crushed to smithereens in the hand of my beloved.

So here I am, wandering downtown through a swarm of people who are oblivious to my inner turmoil. I pretend like I am walking aimlessly, but my subconscious knows that I am walking toward the Ohio River. I weave my way through the colorfully painted humans who hold all kinds of flags towards the gate that leads into the palace.

As I walk, I start to feel strange, as if all of my nerves were on the edges of their seats. A rush sweeps through my body, and just as I recognize the rush for what it is, I am knocked down harshly. My knees collapse and my head races to meet the ground. I have to time no do anything but twist my body onto my shoulder at the last second. The poor right side butt breaks my fall….sort of. My behind is definitely going to be bruised from the shove that sent me sprawling down. I raise my head and look up into dark sunglasses that are perched on the nose of a black suited body, brown eyebrows drawn together in worry. I don't recognize the face and scramble back on my hands and feet. The man holds out his hand in a sign of apology, so I grab his hand and he pulls me up toward him. I stumble into his body and he holds me steadily by my forearms until I regain my balance.

He opens his mouth to apologize, but I cut him off with a quick, "Thanks," and walk away. He doesn't follow me. I dust myself off once I am a good distance away and look back to only see grass in between me and congregation. I keep walking toward the river and onto the walking bridge. Thinking about how if I don't get home soon for supper, my mom will kill me, but I may be able to beat her to the punch line.

My body catches up with my mind soon enough and I suddenly feel the pain from the fall as my hands are now raw and my thighs hurt from the chaffing of my jeans against my bare skin. There is also a new hole in the heel of my left shoe. All I can do is sigh and look down across the shimmering water and watch the waves roll softly. I climb the walking bridge and listen to the cars pass by above me, probably going home to their family after a long night's work. Probably kissing their husbands and wives as they enter their homes and crouching to hold their children as a chorus of, "Mommy! Daddy!" floats their way. Probably not thinking of the young woman sitting on the bridge pondering about how violent her thoughts can be.

I stand up on the edge of the bridge to feel the wind flowing through my long, dun hair. The wind hisses in my ear as I turn my head parallel to the strong breeze and pretend that the wind is whispering to me as it caresses my ear, telling me of its thrilling adventures. I stare into the river's depths then close my eyes to see images bouncing across my eyelids. I feel that same foreign feeling rise in me until I can't help but let it consume my every thought.

Jacob pops into my mind and I think about him. I think about my father dying almost ten years ago. I think about growing up without a father or even a friend until middle school. I think about my meaty appearance and how I don't fit expectations. I think about how bothersome and annoying I am. I think about all of the people pretending to be my friends. I think about how I have lost my one, true confidante to the clutches of another woman. Lastly, I think again about how my mom is _definitely_ going to kill me if I don't get home soon.

Then, I don't think at all. I just feel. I feel all of the emotions running through my body as if I were on fire and the only way out is through my crowded brain. I feel my knees bending of their own accord and my body leaning forward. Then I feel somebody behind me tugging on my leg hard enough to propel my body in the direction of the flat ground of the bridge, but I don't open my eyes. I decide that whatever is happening to my body doesn't matter at this point and I will accept it whether it be a criminal trying to rob or kill me, or an angel pushing me towards my death. Either way doesn't matter in the end as I will end up dying at some point anyway, so I opt to face it head on rather than turn away like a coward.

My mind must have been running faster than my body since it seemed as if neither of those things had happened. I lay still long enough to know that I hadn't been killed, but I keep my eyes closed anyway, delaying the inevitable issue of having to pick up all of the pieces of my broken self. A hand smooths my hair down, and that's when I realize that it is not the hard ground that I am laying on. I free my brown eyes of their entrapment and look up down bright, emerald green eyes and odd, bronze hair. The first thought that comes to my mind is, "Angel," for hair as rare as that must come from the purity of an angel. Our locked eyes make the small space between us crackle with electricity, but neither of us pull away from the other's gaze.

A crooked grin forms on the angel's face as music flows from between his lips, "Hardly, though I dare say the same about you." He stands up and brings me with him, though my legs do not seem to work and I lean on him. Instead of just supporting me, he instead swings my fat body into his arms and seems to carry me as easily as if I weigh nothing.

As he rocks me, he walks into the vivacious city and I suddenly see many clones of the man who accidentally knocked me down earlier. My breath accelerates drastically and my exterior cracks under the pressure pushing down on me. I feel my arms detach and my head spills off my neck, my world is spinning like a whirlybird.

I squirm violently and he lets me down, his cautious hands falling away as I quickly dart out of his grip. I sprint straight into the city as the clones and my angel chase me. This persuades me to run faster, the fear of the unknown chasing after me. All of those track practices must have really paid off since I could tell that my pursuers were drifting away rapidly. I finally make it to the subway station and board a train, but as I impatiently wait for the heavy doors to close, I can see the angel sprinting towards my train car. He realizes he was not fast enough and roars as his hands hit the closed, glass window of the car. l slump down in the seat across from his distressed face in the window and put my head between my knees as I try to catch my breath. Looking up at last moment, I see the angel's face crash into a mourning look that tugs at my heart, but it is too late now and the subway train starts to move away from the station. He slumps to his knees on the ground, looking heartbroken and forlorn as he stares after me.

The feeling is not mutual, or so I tell myself, as I am relieved at having escaped the clutches of the carbon copies of the man who tripped me earlier in the day. Something stretches in my heart towards the station I just left, but I dismiss it along with the image of the mysterious angel in my head and instead focus on the present before my mind totally escapes me once again. In retrospect, it was a bad idea for me to walk anywhere near a possibly dangerous place me being in a poor state of mind and all.

I had never been so close to the edge in the past because I had always found comfort in my best friend, Brandie. Either she or Jacob would comfort me and make me feel better. They would tell me that I am alive for a reason and that they would never leave me behind.

Liars. Both of them.

Really, it was just Jacob who left me behind with a meer, "I'll get your sister to pick your stuff up from my place," but it was then that I realized that promises are made to be broken. So now that he has left me behind to pick up the shattered pieces of what used to be us, I figure that since it was so easy for him to do that to me….who's to say that Brandie won't do the same, her being flighty enough as it is.

I hear the recorded, mechanical voice sweep through the speakers saying that that I had reached the last stop. I stand up with tears silently streaming down my face and walk out into the empty streets. My feet lead me around bends and turns and I eventually end up at my house. I slide open the glass door, witholding my thoughts until I reach my bedroom, and slip past my sleeping mother and into the hallway, making sure to tiptoe so as not to wake my younger sister. My door creaks as it slides open and I cringe at the disturbing noise. Stepping over the mountains of clothes that litter my floor, I finally reach the comfort of my bed.

My clock says it's 4:00 in the morning and I smile. The later that I go to sleep, the less meals I will be expected to eat seeing as I will wake at sometime in the afternoon. This makes me genuinely happy since I am trying to lose weight and the less food I eat, the less weight I gain. I cry myself to sleep, as usual, and fall into a deep sleep full of my angel who has yet to be named. I lay in his arms as music flows sweeps softly about the room and bliss shines in his eyes. I take my time to admire his sharp jaw and dark, brown eyebrows that make his light eyes pop and enhances his pale skin and hair. I can't help but wonder why I am dreaming about this bright, unknown man.

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 **I am revising this story so that once I proofread everything, I will get back into the swing of writing it to pass the time. Sorry for all of the updates that will be emailed to you, but this is really for the best. I can't believe that my writing was this horrible and that people stuck around anyway. W O W.**

 **Review, please!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or Brandon Rogers.**

Chapter 2

The next morning I wake with a killer headache and am surprised that I did not have a nightmare. I must have been too tired for my mind to make me relive another bad memory. Nightmares have invaded my sleep for as long as I can remember. Lately, I've been trying to stay up late so that I might avoid them. Suddenly, the night before comes back to me and I groan. My door squeaks open and my younger sister, Jane, with her yellow glasses yells, "Get up! It's 1:00." Thank goodness for weekends. She then walks out…without closing the door. I groan once more at the intrusion and grab my emergency bottle of aspirin and douse a few without water. Swinging my legs off the side of the bed, I lumber to the bathroom to brush my teeth and hair until my arms hurt from being held up for so long. I pull out a pair of jeans, some green tennis shoes, and a random t-shirt. The sun contrasts my eternal mood as it shines brightly through the window. I am surprised to see that it is not raining as usual. Even though I feel like staying in my room for the rest of the day, I clump downstairs and into the living room. First thing I see is the television blaring the word, "ALERT" in big, red, capital letters.

"Our dear Prince Edward Cullen is currently bedridden. We asked him if he knows what illness has disabled him and he responded with devastating news," says the orange, barbie newscaster. "Prince Edward had found his patch just the night before, but once he had caught her standing on the side of the downtown bridge, she proceeded to run away from the him and onto a subway out of Port Angeles." I sit unceremoniously on the gray couch and melt into the cushions beside my mom, but I cannot pull my eyes away from the screen to greet her. A picture of the prince with his bronze hair pops up on the television and my heart aches, but I know that I should not be feeling anything for this well known stranger.

The only thing that comes out of patching is despair and sadness. I would know.

"Keep your eyes out for the prince's patch. We have very little information on her, but we do know that she is about about five feet and four inches tall, brown eyes, shoulder-blade length brown hair, fair skinned, and is lightweight." I catch my mother glancing at me for a moment, but then shakes her head and looks back at the television screen.

The newscaster looks straight into the camera. "Prince Edward Cullen is requesting that his patch come to him and has said that the doors of the palace will be open to any lady who thinks that she is his patch. But to hold a meeting with the prince, you will be required to answer this question correctly. Only those who have answered the question correctly will be taken to the prince so he can determine if you are his patch or not. I'm sure you're all hanging on the edge of your seats, so here we go. Are you ready ladies? Your question is…What is the first word that Prince Edward's patch said to him? Good luck, and if Prince Edward's patch is watching this, please come heal our beloved prince." Her voice is sincere and will no doubt bring hundreds of women to the front gates of the palace immediately.

My head spins despite the earlier Advil. While my shoulders become heavy, my brain throbs. I close my eyes and wait for the illness to go away, but that relief never comes.

I've heard the stories of patches dying from their own patch resolving not to see them or even be near them. Of course, those are just stories. Right?

I take a seat at the kitchen table, my forehead propped up on one hand while the other drums a frantic rhythm on the hard wood in front of me.

I already long for the Sunday to be over, because without school as a distraction, my thoughts become violent. This is how I've been ever since I was a little girl. When I was ten years old, my father, Charlie Swan, died of a heart attack in the front yard while I was at school. I was in a really bad state of mind afterward for about a year after his death. Then I became even worse. I was diagnosed with depression when I was eleven years old. It was at that age that I realized that there is no happy ending to life. The only difference between now and then is that I had never had a reason to commit suicide, and I have more problems now than I did back then. After Dad died, it was easy to see that relationships do not last forever, and now Jacob has left me just like my dad did.

Now, thinking about how close I was to ending my life last night, I start to feel ill, like I am about to vomit. Not that there would be any contents in my belly for me to regurgitate, seeing as how I haven't been eating lately. Yet the thought still makes me feel ashamed at how I would even consider leaving this world.

Huh, how odd. I haven't felt this opposed to death in years, it'll probably wear off later.

"Bella, please walk the dog. This is the last time I am going to tell you!" Oops, I must have dozed off again. Sometimes I just go to a different place and imagine a better life, a skinnier me, a healthy relationship, a complete family…

"Yeah. Okay, Mom." I grab the long, blue leash while my lovable doberman pinscher named Billy wags his tail excitedly near the door. I hook the leash to his collar and hold on tightly with both hands, making sure I have a firm grip before starting the journey down the driveway.

Last summer, Billy had gotten too excited when a bat flew by and decided to pounce, pulling me along with him and into the forest. He had jerked so hard that his leash slipped right through my hand and he took off like a bat out of hell. I then had to chase him all the way down to La Push beach. The bat finally flew into a cave where Billy couldn't jump high enough to snag his jaws on the wretched creature. I had to pull the scruff of his neck with all of my might and ended up spraining my wrist from the force exuded to reign in the dumb dog.

Weaving my way through the streets helps clear my mind for the time being. I peregrinate with Billy around Forks High School, in front of the diner, and then along the edge of the tree line until we circle back to the house. Though as I walk, I keep my eyes open for the prince's numerous guards just in case they remember my face and try to take me. It seems silly, but you never know what is going to happen until it has already been done.

The prince and the rest of the royal family did not always always live in Port Angeles.

We used to have a president who lived in Washington D.C., but then Congress decided that America would do better as a monarchy. The president soon became the queen and ever since then, all of her descendants became the bobble heads of United States of America. About 50 years back though, King Aro, who has since stepped down, thought that he was too exposed in Washington D.C. and moved the capital to Port Angeles, Washington, so he would be closer to Canada. After the move, guards were posted in the neighboring cities, including Forks, so that any and all threats close to the king would be extinguished quickly. But in recent years of King Carlisle's reign, there has been less patrolling of power hungry guards it is still a good idea to keep my ear to the ground and my eyes wide open.

We make it home about half an hour later without trouble and start to cook my Auntie Fee's leftover deluxe for my mom and sister. My mother used to be able to cook dinner for us every night, but ever since my father passed away, she has become mopey and distant. I am mostly okay with it because cleaning the house gives me something to focus on, and I need all the distractions I can get these days. After fixing dinner, I mop and vacuum the floors and before I realize it, the sun is setting and Mom is sleeping on the couch again while Jane is probably skinning a squirrel or something. I hop in the shower and think about my younger sister.

Jane probably has just as many problems as me. The difference between us is that she has always been like this. My sister is so violent in everything she does. I am convinced that she is a sadist from the way she acts. When we were littler, she pushed me off of our play set and I broke my arm. Another time we were at our grandparents and she forced me in between the treadmill and the wall. She then turned the treadmill on high and just about skinned me alive. Ever since that incident, I have tried to distance myself from her. To this day, I always make sure to keep out of her way.

My shower doesn't take long because Mom said that since we only have one main source of income, we have to take five minute showers to keep the water bill down to a minimum. Afterwards, I sleepily pull on my black and blue pajamas and make my way to my barren room. I try to stay awake as long as I can so I can tire my mind enough so that I don't have the brainpower to create a nightmare, but I have no such luck and fall into a deep sleep.

 _"Oh, Bells." Jacob chuckles kindly as I stumble away from a kiosk selling flowers and into his long arms. I blush, look way up into his big brown eyes, and smile because I know that he will always be there to catch me when I fall, as corny as it sounds. My blush becomes more prominent after that last thought and I bashfully look away, my hands gripping his biceps hard._

 _Jacob waits until I am balanced on my feet, and then takes my hand in his warm palm. We swing our joined hands between us as we tread. His height is monstrous compared to my little frame, but we fit together like a ball and a glove and I could not be more happy with our relationship. I admire the beautiful Friday afternoon. It is one of those rare, sunny days in Forks that we always take advantage of by taking long walks through the city or in the dense forest._

 _Today, we happen to stumble across a festival and decided to see what the venders were selling. As we wander aimlessly through the crowds, I feel eyes on us and start to feel exposed and vulnerable, so I wrap my arms through Jacob's left arm. He notices my discomfort and looks around us for the threat, but when he looks behind us, his eyes glaze over and his hold on me loosens immensely._

 _I follow his gaze and see a girl around my age with short-cropped hair and tanned skin. She is wearing a yellow sundress that brings out her dark brown eyes that look glazed over, just as Jacob's are. Of course. I immediately recognize what has happened and cover my mouth with both of my hands to try to conceal my gasp._

 _No, no no no. This_ cannot _be happening._

 _Sorrow fills Jacob's eyes as he looks at me. I can see that he does not want to hurt me, but he does want to be with his patch, a girl whose name he doesn't even know. His hands lightly grip onto my shoulders, but he does not remove his eyes from the girl._

 _I feel my heart breaking all over again as he says, "I'll get your brother to pick your stuff up from my place." He steps away from me and starts toward her. I try to grab Jacob's hand again, but he shrugs me off with a disapproving shake of his head. I fall to my knees on the ground while a crowd gathers with sad gazes directed at me. I stay in my position as the love of my life walks away, shredding my heart with every step he takes. He does not turn around to even say 'goodbye'. I watch mournfully as Jacob grabs his patch's hand, smiles at her, then leads her away and out of sight._

 _Silent tears stream down my face as I get to my feet and I run into the forest aimlessly and cry on the ground. Surrounding me are trees, and trees, and more trees and I don't know where I am. I don't care either because the only thing I can concentrate on are the tears falling on the ground and the seemingly unrepairable, dead heart that lays in my chest, acting as if it is still works. But my heart is not really there. My heart is now the ground under Jacob as he steps and grinds it beneath his foot as if I never meant anything to him. I guess I really didn't mean anything to him if the way that he strided away so easily as if I am trash was anything to go by. If Jacob could cast me away so easily, who's to say that my family and friends won't do the same once they are done with me and all my problems._

 _"Bella!" I hear from the woods enclosing me. "Bella!_ BELLA _!"_

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 **I can't believe that y'all actually read this story at some point. Looking back and rereading all of my grammar mistakes just makes me want to vomit. Y'all must have guts of steel to keep on with this story without a paper bag on hand.**

 **New viewers….please REVIEW!**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight.**

I wake in a cold sweat with my alarm blaring that stupid 'Bella' alarm that Jacob had recorded and set for me the first night that he stayed over. We never went farther than kissing and hoping and in hindsight, maybe that was for the best. Jacob used to do all these cute little things for me that would always make my day.

Oh, Jacob….

The thought of him puts me down.

While my mind is in the process of waking up, my ears become tuned to the sound of the rain pattering against my window and the roof. It is a calming sound that I have come to appreciate over the years as I have lived in Forks for all of my life.

My eyes adjust to the darkness around me and I reluctantly haul myself out of my cozy bed. I make my way to the bathroom with my trusty toothbrush and hair comb. After I finish up my morning routine, I head back to my room to make my bed and put my clothes on for school. I grab some Picasso-style black and white leggings, a long-sleeved gray Old Navy sweatshirt, and grey flats.

The drive is easy in my old, _old_ truck with my creepy sister, Jane, staring forward. She has in colored contacts that make her irises look as if they are blood red. She is dressed head to toe in black and has even donned a cape with a hood. The creepiest part was that she was looking straight out the window, never blinking, the _whole_ time. Talk about terrifying.

As I get out of my truck, I see guards posted outside in the yard before the school's entrance, guarding and keeping the teenagers docile at school. This is not unusual, but something seems just a little bit off today and raises the hairs on the back of my neck. The guards' eyes scan the crowd in front of us and lock on Jane as we head for the front doors and they both take a cautionary step back. I guess I'm not the only one who finds her frightening.

On either side of the main entrance to the building is a guard decked in a suit and tie with a belt that holds their equipment. They remind me of the guys that chased me down the night I met the prince. Of course, I already realized that the men were not clones, but my superstition still lingers. Now that I think about it, it's weird how the royal family apparently likes to have carbon copies of one single person to guard them. I imagine them calling every 'clone' Joe and them having to find a specific Joe, but they all look alike so the can't find him. I giggle at the thought and keep moving through the hallways.

The day goes by as usual: I have some classes, meet up with Angela and Jessica, get mad at Lauren, then go home. This is how it goes by for about a few weeks. The doors of the palace have been overflowing with teenage (and even older) girls who want to be Prince Edward's patch. If you can't guess….I was not one of them.

The news has been on constant watch on his royal highness. Prince Edward's strength and health is declining rapidly, just like mine. I haven't gotten a good night's rest in two weeks, my brain power is even lower than usual, and my physical energy is at an all time low. I can't imagine _him_ being in any better shape than I am. I'm afraid that if this goes on much longer then we'll both be beyond saving.

 _Is it worth it to give up and accept the patch, or will we both be better off dying from withstanding the overwhelming power?_

Little did I know that my answer would be decided for me the day after that wretched little thought popped into my head.. I had been at school and the population of teenagers had chosen to ignore the lessons that the teachers were giving, and instead they all got on their phones and found out that the prince was on the move. He had left the palace early this morning, probably in search of his patch who would take all chances to avoid him.

In hindsight, I really should have noticed the large amount of soldiers outside the school. But not getting the sleep that I have so desperately needed had exponentially weakened my senses enough that I apparently couldn't use my common sense. I had parked beside a huge black SUV which _really_ should have given it away but Jane had distracted me by chuckling darkly and whispering frighteningly dark phrases.

Now as I walk into the cafeteria, I see a table totally surrounded by men and women in dark suits. Well technically, I don't see the table because all of the bodies are so close together that they build a human wall. I "took a wild guess" and assumed that the prince was in there. I don't know how he found me and I don't really care to find out, so I try to walk out of the cafeteria the way I came in, but there is a sea of bodies blocking my way. The guards must know what I look like because as soon as they spot me, they came onto me like moths to a flame. I can't believe that were even able to find me at all!

Prince Edward sees the commotion around me and weaves his way between the guards yelling, "Stand down!" I am panicking internally, but stay still as the cafeteria quietens immediately. The prince keeps moving toward me. I at least have enough sense to curtsy, but he immediately pulls me out of my curtsy.

"An angel shall never bow to an unworthy man." He doesn't quite hold my hand as he must know I would fight, so he instead takes my wrist and slowly maneuvers us to the table he was originally sitting at. The lunch room eventually starts to talk again but at much lower tones, no doubt gossiping about the girl who Prince Edward Cullen had just escorted to his table.

"What is your name, angel?" His voice is like the sweetest honey and flows smoothly out of his mouth as if he had been practicing that line for weeks. Maybe he _had_ been doing just that.

"Isabella Marie Swan, but my friends call me Bella. Call me Isabella," I say moodily.

Just because he is my patch, and I his, doesn't mean that I have to like him. His small smile that had appeared for a moment was wiped right off his face at my statement and it makes me feel a little bad for being mean, but I will not take it back. His face soon regains that crooked smile and I divert my eyes to his messy, bronze hair.

"Hello….Isabella. My name is Prince Edward Anthony Cullen, but my friends call me Edward. Please, call me Edward."

He tries to ease some of the tension between us with a grin and holds out his hand. My mother had always raised me as a lady, so I take his hand expecting to shake it, but he brings my hand to his lips and lightly kisses my knuckles.

I didn't know that you could almost faint from a kiss….to the knuckles! I await for him to give me my hand back, but he instead holds onto it and lays our joined palms on the lunch table in between us. I will my body to take my hand back, but it doesn't listen and I give up.

"Isabella, why did you not come to the palace to help me find you?" Surprisingly, guilt rises in my stomach. I squish it down without a second thought.

"I didn't want you to find me, Prince Edward. I've never liked patching and have never wanted it to happen to me." Edward's hand twitches a little bit.

"Love, you may call me Edward. Without the _prince_ part." His eyes soften and the sides of his mouth lifts up.

"No thank you, Prince Edward. That would make me a bad subject of yours." My sardonic smile throws him off a bit. We shouldn't become anything other than formal, even with our names, or else he might assume that we are becoming friends.

He tries to think of something that we won't argue on.

"What is your favorite color?" he asks suddenly.

"Green." I immediately blurt out, but then instantly cover my mouth with my hands. My answer makes him smile and that makes the butterflies in my stomach take flight. My favorite color used to be brown, but I guess that that changed recently….

Edward then asks the question I was really hoping that he wouldn't.

"Why?"

His toothy smile could light up a room, make a blind man see, and set a whole town on fire from its beauty all at the same time! I take the time to contemplate his looks. There are dark bags under his eyes and his face is clear and unusually pale, but then again, so is mine. His large nose is aquiline and his eyes are an attractive, emerald green that captures the attention of every lucky person his gaze lands on. His eyelashes and eyebrows seriously make me jealous of his genetics. His messy, bronze hair is sticking out every way imaginable, but I do not think that he could have tamed that beast with the strongest hair products money could possible buy.

"Isabella, Isabella? Are you in there?" Edward playfully mocks my face as I had zoned off.

I can't help but laugh at his expression, however I remember too late to cover it up as a cough. Edward obviously catches my mistake and his wide mouth grins. I set my face to a clean slate and resolve to keep it that way, though I am glad my mistake got me out of answering his last question.

"I never moved, I'm right here. What is your favorite color?" I try to be polite seeing as how he is a prince and could make my life miserable with the snap of his fingers. _Oh man, I really should have remembered that_ before _the conversation even started!_

He answers almost before the question is out of my mouth. "Brown. Specifically, the color of your hair," he says honestly. He unwinds his jaw to say something more, but he is interrupted by the obnoxious lunch bell.

"I will see you after school, Isabella. We will give your sister a ride home as well." There is no room for argument as he walks me to my next class, a troop of our own personal escorts follow behind us in their regal suits. Edward kisses my knuckles once more as we part and I get ready for the last two lessons of the day.

As I walk out of the doors from gym class, the last class of the day, with some new bruises on my arms and legs, I'm almost instantly surrounded by guards which makes me jump out of my own skin. I yelp loudly and I assume that our beloved Prince Edward had heard since he runs straight through the corps of clones to me. His hands go to hold my face, but I step out of his range. He settles to look me over at a distance for any damage. I humph, irritated that he thinks that I could not defend myself if I were to be put in danger, but Edward just chuckles and jogs to catch up with me, his aroma following suit.

"So how were your last classes today? Gym sure sounds like a fun time." He can _not_ be serious.

"It was a blast," I say, sarcasm dripping from my voice.

Prince Edward's laugh is like music Debussy, and I could listen to it for days. His low voice makes his booming laugh fall effortlessly from his mouth and I find myself wanting to hear more.

 _Woah, where did that thought come from?_

I kick the unwanted thought from my brain and we walk the rest of the way to his car in silence. Edward helps me into the passenger seat of the SUV and closes the door on me before he goes around and climbs in on his side, putting the key in the ignition.

"Can I take you somewhere?" Edward says. We pull out of the parking lot, SUVs both in front and behind us. This is not conspicuous _at all_. Definitely nobody important in the four car chain of black SUVs all driving to the same destination at the same speed.

"Please, just take me home," I plead. He suddenly turns serious and sends me a disappointed look.

"I am trying to make this patch work. I have always looked forward to patching, you know, finding the love of my life. Why can't you just try and work with me here, Isabella? I know that you don't like the situation, as you have made sure to remind me of that at every turn so far, but right now I wonder if you can outgrow this childishness, or if you will always be this hard headed even though you know that this will hurt you and me if you keep going in this direction." He frowns as he looks back and forth between the road and me.

My face flames from both embarrassment and anger at how little he just made me feel with that speech. He put me below him and made himself the superior of the two of us. I am just about ready to really blow my cap. Edward sighs and continues before I can start to berate him.

"I am sorry, that was uncalled for. I am just trying to understand how you can just reject the thought of us so easily." I have to admit, it is getting very hard for me to be mad at him. When he apologizes, he sounds so sincere and adorable. No wait, NOT ADORABLE.

"Take me home," I say both sternly and softly so that he knows that I mean business and that I also accept his apology without saying the actual words.

The SUV makes some sharp turns here and there, and in a matter of minutes, we are pulling up into the driveway of my house. I don't ask how he knows where I live; I'm afraid I might not like the answer I'd get if I could muster up the courage to ask. Edward helps me out of the car once more and walks me to my front door.

"May I pick you up tomorrow for school and then take you somewhere special afterwards, Isabella?" Edward oozes excitement and hope at the idea that I might say yes now that we are on slightly better terms. I can't help but give in to this simple happiness of his.

We say our goodbyes and he drives off with his guard. Dealing with Edward was easy enough, but now I must face the real problem; the beast that lays in wait behind the front door of my house. My mother, Renee Swan.

* * *

 **Hopefully everybody saw the announcement I only had up for less than 24 hours, but it said that his story is under construction. I am going through all the chapters and fixing all the many problems. Sorry for the inconvenience, but I can't have a story up that looks like shit, I'm a better writer than that. Hope everybody likes that changes I'm making.**

 **Review, please!**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 3

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or make any money off of it**

My mom, Renee Swan, is a bit of a lunatic and is quick to jump the gun. Once she hears that I have patched, I'm afraid of what her reaction will be. She will be bitter, no doubt. I just hope that she won't be so furious that she becomes….irrational and provoked. Maybe I'll just not tell her at all. Yeah. There's no reason for me to bring on any unnecessary suffering to myself. I sit on the edge of the porch and give myself a pep talk; my mind drifts to Edward after a few minutes.

I told myself that I would not fall for this man, and I won't, but what's the harm in having a little fun? Our relationship does not have to become romantic; it could just be a platonic friendship, right? Plus, it's kind of hard to hate him when he is so handsome, nice, and never does anything to make me angry. Well, he did in the car, but I forgave him almost immediately so it doesn't really count. Just walking away from the patch isn't an option anymore. Now that Edward knows my name, if we were to die due to me refusing to cooperate, then I would known forever as the selfish girls who killed the beloved crown prince. I know what you're thinking: _why would she care about her reputation? She'd already be dead and wouldn't know the difference._ As logical as that sounds, I don't go by logic; I go by feelings. When I die, whether it be sooner or later, I want to either not be remembered at all, or be remembered in a good light. And there is no way that I can go back to being secluded now that Prince Edward knows me. Not to mention I'd feel extremely guilty beforehand for knowing that I would be directly committing regicide. My feelings are very easy to bruise, but I don't normally show them outside the confines of my bedroom… where I am alone. I take a deep breath for courage and reach forward with my left hand.

Mom must have been waiting for me. She opens the door right before my reluctant hand almost touches the door handle. I briefly wonder if Jane ever made it home, but quickly cast that thought out of my head since there are more important matters to deal with at the moment.

"Where have you been, Bella? I noticed you didn't come in when Jane did a while ago." Mom tries for a straight face as I pass by her and walk into the kitchen, but I can see the mischief behind her eyes. I sit at the table and stare at the ground as I answer her.

"I took a walk around the neighborhood," I say quietly. The less information I give her the better.

Mom towers over me as I sit still in my chair. Noticing her new, sparkly heels, my eyebrows twitch into a frown. She must have seen my wandering eyes on the pair of shoes and I can sense something building up behind her veneer. It is such a mystery to me on how she can buy expensive shoes at the drop of a hat, but apparently can't pay bills with the money. I dizzily stand, intending to hike the stairs down to my bedroom in the basement, but Mom lays a restraining hand on my shoulder to keep me in my place.

"Dear Bella, you can't expect to come home and all your chores be done." I flinch, and remember that Mom is currently sober, which is sometimes worse. "I've been working all day and earning money for my family, but you can't even clean the goddamn house!" My head is thrown left when I feel the slap that my mother gave me. I take it silently and don't move when she retreats back into the living room with a bottle of beer. Wow, I guess she didn't even notice that I had left at all last night, not that she would care too much if I left and never came back. She could always just make another maid out of Jane, the favorite child.

I sigh inwardly and walk to the sink. Dishes are always easy because my mind can wander while my hands do all the work. Once when I was littler, I was afraid of what would happen when my parents kicked me out of the house, but now my views have changed. Now, I'm afraid that I'll _never_ be allowed to leave.

Hmmm… Maybe Edward can be my way out of this— "Fuck!" I curse.

My finger bleeds heavily as I reach my other hand toward the faucet. Hot water from washing the dishes immediately flows out of the nozzle and I curse again, this time louder. I scramble get it under control and am able to finally wash out my cut. Heavy footsteps make themselves known behind me as my whole body stops moving. I wait patiently as my mother finds a way to say what is on her mind. She turns my around by my shoulders until I am nose to nose with her. A heavy punch hits my stomach and I double over.

"Bella, darling. You know that ladies never curse. Don't you ever curse in my house again. What if your poor, little sister were to pick up that bad language? I wouldn't want the shit that comes out of your mouth to taint her." Mom hits me again, but this time on my back and I fall to the floor. I hear glass splintering the wall near my head and I curl up.

"Yes, ma'am," I say, hoping she'll leave soon. Thankfully, Mom then walks back to her recliner in the living room without causing any more damage.

I take a moment to get my breathing under control before I get up once more to finish washing the dishes. I can tell right off the bat that there aren't any broken bones; there's just going to be a nasty bruise on my front and back. My face, on the other hand, might be a little more noticeable when its bruise decides to show up as well.

Finished with the dishes, I walk upstairs and vacuum every room on the second floor without too much trouble. Afterwards is my freetime and I make sure to take a shower. Later as I lay on my bed, I just thank my lucky stars that Mom hadn't seen Edward dropping me off. For some reason, she doesn't like me having friends so I have always had to hide them from her. Evading sleep overs and mall trips had always been tricky, seeing as how my friends don't know about my living situation, so I've kept my friend count to a minimum. Not that I could ever gain any more friends. I don't even know how I managed to score the ones that I have now. Of course, Brandie isn't much better than Mom, but at least I know that she cares about me in her own way. Edward and I might be able to be friends, or at least I can hope, and maybe he'll show a little compassion, but I doubt it.

Things never work out for me in the end anyway.

* * *

I wish that I had dreamt of Edward Cullen if only just to escape my nightmares. My wish is only half granted for my dreams are invaded by death, but this time it is the death of my patch. A faceless man dressed in all black follows Edward across the bridge downtown, and then corners him against the railing. I call out for Edward. It seems that he cannot hear me so I try to run for him but my feet work against me and will not move. I am watching as the unidentified man pulls out a knife and Edward's eyes grow wide, he backs up and decides to jump over the edge of the bridge as Mr. Anonymous tries to grab him. My screams are ear shattering and they follow me into the real world as I wake up, once again, in a cold sweat. My face radiates heat from my pulsing heartbeat and I try relaxing my body before I go back to sleep.

Luckily, I wake just a few minutes before my alarm clock blares so I lay in my bed for what seems like seconds.

* * *

 **Short chapter,** _ **I know.**_

 **Sucky chapter,** _ **I know!**_

 **I'm totally changing the mom's character and mannerisms from a loving mother, to barely a mother at all.**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or make any money off of it.**

My heart may have calmed after that vivacious nightmare, but my mind is still on overload. I take moment to gather my thoughts before I prepare myself for the day ahead of me. My bed creaks loudly as I heave myself off of it and into the bathroom. After brushing my teeth, I look into the mirror and grimace at the sight in front of me. A large, nasty, blue and purple bruise adorns the left side of my face. Sighing, I squeeze some of my concealer out of the bottle and start the process of covering up said bruise. After that is all taken care of, I head back into my room to get dressed in my old, worn clothing.

A metal pant drops loudly downstairs and I shake my head. Mom must be trying to cook something again. I become alarmed when I hear heavy footsteps clambering up the stairs.

That is not my mother.

My mom is a lightweight person who could not make half of the noise that the person escalating the stairs is. I hear the wooden steps scream under the weight of the stranger. My limbs suddenly jump into action as I grab the thing nearest object to use as my weapon against the intruder. All I can come up with a plastic ruler; a pretty much useless weapon, but a weapon nonetheless. Oh god, oh god. I'm not ready to die today of all days. Why today? Why me?

I make a quick decision to stand behind the door so that when the person walks in, I will already be upon them. Just as the thought crosses my mind, my bedroom door slowly creaks open. A head full of oddly colored, bronze hair peaks around the corner of my door and into my room. My mind is so preoccupied with fear that it takes a moment to realize that this is no stranger. This is the prince, the heir to the throne, the man who saved my life, my patch. I might have been able to stop my swing with the ruler, but I decide to go with a different plan of action in a split second. If anything, I could always blame Prince Edward for not knocking or announcing himself before he barged into my room. A weak argument, I know, but I really do want to hit this man so I'll take any excuse I have.

"Ahhhhh!" Both of us loudly yell in unison, but only one of us groans groans afterwards. The slap of my ruler against his forehead is deafening compared to the otherwise silent room and the noise makes me jump in place.

"Whoops," I say lamely.

I can't muster up much sympathy, but go to inspect his forehead, faux compassion covering my features. There will likely be no worse damage than a small cut and a bruise on his forehead since my weapon was not a good choice, but Edward does not give me proper time to inspect his battle wound. From my standpoint the cut is miniscule, as I suspected, but Edward's acting skills are not. He drops to his knees on the floor, clutching his head in between his hands and lightly rocking back and forth, groaning and muttering about how he is near death. I roll my eyes and think, _if he doesn't stop acting like an idiot, his life really_ will _be at risk._ I perch myself on my toes in front of him and lay my hands on his shoulders to keep him still as I look at the itty bitty cut on his forehead.

"I kind of like this position. We should do it more often, if I do say so myself." There is obviously nothing sexual about me crouching in front of him, so I roll my eyes again.

"I thought your head hurt," I remind him, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh it does, but seeing you makes me feel all better." I do not have time to tell him off for his corny comment since he keeps on jabbering. "Why did you whack me anyway? And with a ruler of all things? I hope this is not the extent of your defense mechanisms, and if they are, then I have _got_ to teach you some tactics to actually defend yourself. We can even start now! Tactic number one: do _not_ use a ruler to attempt to inflict pain." He smiles while I frown.

"If you don't shut up immediately, you will be losing some of your pretty, bronze locks." I stand to dig through my night stand and his voice follows me on the way out.

I can hear his smirk as he says, "Did I hear you say they were pretty? Awww….she thinks I'm pretty." His voice fades into a whisper toward the end of his statement.

I grab some neosporin out from inside my bedside table. My old Grandpa Swan always said that if anything could heal a wound, it would be Neosporin. Therefore, Neosporin has been my night in shining armor for the past few years. I squeeze a glob of the stuff out on my index finger and rub the slick substance on his forehead. When I am done, I give him a little slap on the top of his head before I jump away and sit on my unmade bed.

"Hey! What was that for? Why did you hit me?" Edward yelps pompously.

" _Why did I hit you?_ Why did _you_ just barge into my room without any warning?" I'm sure that he has a creepy answer and regret the question immediately.

Edward rubs the back of his neck while he speaks. "Well, you _are_ my patch and all. I was wondering if we developed our spidey senses yet." I raise my eyebrows unbelievingly. "Okay, okay. That _and_ I was hoping that you were in the middle of getting dressed." I totally called it. I guess boys will be boys, even if they happen to be a twenty-year-old prince.

"I didn't have anything else on hand except for a ruler. Would you have rather me used my fist?" I try to play it off as sarcastic and I think that I do a pretty good job. I do want to know though if it would have been better to use my fist; it would be a good thing to know. Defence is obviously not my forte, and though I hate to admit it, I probably do need some help with my skills in that area.

Edward goes to touch his cut so I have to yell at him. "STOP!" His hand stops where it is and I feel a little guilty for yelling, but he really should know not touch it. It is just common sense not to touch cuts. They get infected easily.

"Get out of my room and don't touch your forehead. I don't know what you needed, but I'll be down in a minute." I shove him out of my room by pushing on his shoulder blades and directing him toward the door. Edward chuckles softly at my insistence of him leaving but he complies anyway and heads back downstairs.

He leaves with a, "I'll be downstairs, Isabella."

How did he even get into my home? _Oh, no_. I really, _really_ hope he didn't talk to my mom.

* * *

 **So this took a while. I just kinda got bored and started actually working on school work, ya know, getting my life together. Sorry for taking so long. Though I hate to admit it, the next chapter probably won't come out for another week or two just because I have so much on my plate. This probably seems short, but I actually added 400 words while rewriting it.**

 **REVIEW!**


	6. Chapter 6: Puppies Can Be Human Too

Chapter 6: Puppies Can Be Human Too

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or make any money off of it**

Hopefully Mom left last night to some club or another and hasn't come back. No doubt there are a gazillion and one body guards outside to guard a certain prince. I brace myself as I descend the stairs only to be surprised to see that there are only two terrifying men in black suits.

"Woah, where is the rest of the party?" Edward is reading some newspaper when he looks up at me with those gems of his. When he answers, I am surprised that he understands my slightly vague question.

"Five more guards are waiting for us to leave for school. You will have to drink your coffee in the car if we are going to get to school on time," he says with a smile and a glance, then continues to read his paper.

I nod. Wait. " _We_?"

Edward stands, folding the newspaper under his left arm and looping his right through my own arm. "We as in us. The both of us are going to your school today. Or, at least, I will drop you off and see you at lunch probably." My look speaks more than I do and Edward looks taken aback. "What? I would love to see you more often now that I know you exist. You did not think that I would just leave now that I found you, right?" I direct my gaze at the coffee cup on the table and grab it, breaking my arm's connection with Edward's.

I'd rather not answer that question. Whatever, it's not like he is going to hang around for much longer when he sees what a total loser I am. I've gotta make my move soon if I ever expect to get out of this godforsaken house forever.

I grab my backpack with a careful look into the living room and then walk out the front door with Edward on my heels. Two really tall shadows follow us to one of the cars on the street and the other five bodyguards who were previously leaning against the sides of the cars also climb into the two SUVs both in front and behind our own. Edward and I climb into the back and he pulls out a plate covered in saran wrap. On the plate are three fluffy pancakes the size of my hand.

"I made it this morning for you to eat when you woke up, but you woke later than I expected you to, so you will have to eat it in the car. By the way, you should remind your parents to go grocery shopping. There was barely any food in the fridge or pantry," he says lackadaisically. _Woah, good word_. It's a good thing he just thinks we are in need for a grocery run. Our pantry and refrigerator has likely been like that for months; I'm not even allowed to eat from the kitchen so I don't ever bother checking to see if we have any food.

Edward holds the plate out towards me and I shake my head.

"I don't eat breakfast usually. It makes me feel nauseous so early in the morning." Well, I'm not lying. I've gotten so used to being denied food that it would make me very sick so early in the day. He frowns at my answer.

"You are already so small and dainty. Please eat at least a little bit. You need some more meat on those bones," he insists. I give in and take extremely small bites, determined to eat less than half of a pancake by the time I get to school.

I chew slowly. After a minute of silent chewing I say, "Please don't come and pick me up for school anymore. I like walking in the mornings, but I can't do that with a prince and his entourage surrounding me. You'll bring too much attention to us." _Please don't come pick me up for school anymore because I'm afraid my mom will see you and beat me later for making a friend. You'll bring her attention to me and I don't want you to see what I have to deal with everyday._

He frowns again. "Isabella, I thought I already told you that I want to see you often. We can make a routine in the morning of eating breakfast together! Maybe your family can eat with us. Where were they anyway?"

I ignore his question. "Or we can not do that. I really don't want to see you in the mornings. It is just too early and I'm too cranky." Wow, that sounded bitchy. "Wait, I mean―"

"No, no. It is okay. I get it. You don't want to see me in the mornings. I can deal with that as long as I get to see you at lunch and after school." I look over to see his face. He pulls a strong poker face, but I can tell through our patching bond that he was really hurt by that comment. Wow, those spidey senses really develop quickly. I knew that these little snippets of what the other was feeling was supposed to be pretty darn strong, but I didn't quite realize how strong. It feels as if I am experiencing _his_ emotions alongside my own.

I stay quite for the rest of the ride.

When we pull into a parking spot in the school's parking lot, Edward holds onto my forearm lightly to stop me from fleeing from the uncomfortable setting in the car.

"I have one more question for you before you go. I really want you to answer this question, as it has been bugging me ever since the time that we met….on that bridge." I know the question he is about to ask so I stay still and wait for him to continue, my eyes focused on my shoes. "Why were you standing on the edge of that bridge?"

"Why are you so nosy? I went for a walk, and that was where I ended up," I lie. He shouldn't be sticking his nose in things that don't concern him.

 _Well, it does_ technically _concern him since he is the one that stopped me from―_ no. I'm not going to absolutely ruin my day like this. I've got to stop thinking such thoughts. If I push them down far enough, then maybe they won't bother me for a long, long time.

Edward's face is concerned and a little suspicious, "Isabella, I do not think that―"

"Oh, would look at that. I think the first bell might be ringing soon so I better get off to class. I don't want to be late. Bye!" I squirm out of the car, rapidly cutting off Edward's attempt to figure me out. I slam the car door and run for my first class. I hear footsteps behind me and am reminded about when I was running away from Edward and his bodyguards. I look over my shoulder and feel slightly relieved that the footsteps only belong to two guards. They keep their distance a bit, but are obviously following me. As I walk into my first class, they stand outside the door. But when one of them follows me as I leave Spanish class and walk to lunch, I decide that I have had enough of my personal soldiers. I am a big girl and know how to handle myself. Afterall, I have been doing it for _seventeen freaking years_.

I stare up at the ominous sunglasses perched on the nose of the body guard closest to me. "Look, I am totally fine taking care of myself. I have been going to this school for _years_ and I haven't managed to die yet. I think you can cool it a little bit and back off some," I say reasonably.

The man says with a low voice, "I am sorry Miss Maverick, but we have orders to protect you. We are just doing our job, ma'am." He does not look at me but instead at the wall above and behind my head.

"Well then I order you to stop following me around. What you are doing is called harassment and I will have you arrested if you keep doing that." My words do not have an effect on him far as I can tell. He just stands there, looking creepily over the top of my head. Apparently my empty threat is obvious and the guard merely shrugs. I realize that it may be a little selfish of me to want him to disobey his orders, but selfish might as well be my middle name.

The other guard shifts from foot to foot uncomfortably.

I huff at the unresponsive statues that are my bodyguards, turn on my heels, and head toward the lunchroom to sit in my usual corner with a book. It appears that Prince Edward has different plans and is sitting at the same table that he was at yesterday while waiting for me.

In the middle of the room.

I pass Edward and go to my usual table in the back and, of course, Edward and his lackeys follow me like puppies. I flop heavily into my seat and look at my small hands that rest lightly in my lap.

"So," wow, great start, Edward, "is there any particular reason that you are mad at me? Don't think that I forgot about that talk that we never got to finish in the car." My eyes look up into his angrily. I think I can detect some amusement in his eyes so I look away, not wanting his mood to influence mine. Joy isn't one of my favorite feelings; I rarely even get the chance to experience the foreign emotion.

"Well hello to you too," I say sarcastically. "Who said that I was mad at you? Not that it isn't true, but maybe you shouldn't just assume you know everything. You know _nothing_ about me, and I'd like to keep it like that. Well, as close as possible." Crap, I forgot his question. I ask him to repeat it and he smirks while he does so. "Oh yeah. I'm mad at you for assigning bodyguards to me at school. I've been going here for years, but you think I all the sudden can't handle myself? Well you're wrong. If anything, you associating yourself with me would make people be even more wary of approaching me."

Edward watches me. "I want you to be safe, not neglected. I know that you are safe here, but now you are even more safe. I do not want to be taking any chances when it comes to your health and safety. Public schools have been becoming ever more violent lately with all kinds of psychos bringing in weapons."

He's not wrong. Just earlier this week there was a _fourteen year old boy who brought a gun and ammo to his high school in Wisconsin for protection purposes._ The thing is, I need protection at home, not at school. Not that I'm going to tell him or anything.

I nod and he goes on, seeing that he has my attention and consent.

"Isabella, you do not understand. You may not have even been in danger before you met me, but now you are and there are people who would like to hurt me, and in turn, hurt you. I need to keep you safe now that you are going to be the queen in the future." He doesn't notice my growing panic attack. _I'm going to be Queen of America someday_.

Edward keeps talking, "Actually, it might be a good idea for me to bring you to the palace this weekend, just to get you used to the layout. Mother has been pestering me about you and the court needs to see you anyway. Yes, we will do that. I really hope that you don't have any pla— Isabella?" My breathing quickens and it feels as if there is a heavy stone in my chest. Edward moves to sit beside me.

"Isabella, please tell me what to do. I- I don't know what to do! Collin help me out here!" I pay no attention to him. Instead I focus on my breathing. Every time I start to calm down, I only have to think the words _Queen_ _Isabella Cullen_ for the whole fiasco to start all over again.

Collin, whoever that is, must have said something because the next words that come from Edward's mouth are followed by his gentle hand on the back of my head.

"Isabella, baby, put your head between your knees and concentrate on my voice." I do as he tells me to and he keeps talking to distract me. "Oh, darling. You are going to be alright. I don't know if it was what I said or something else, but please only concentrate on my voice now. Um, I-I will talk about my parents. We do need to meet them as a couple soon, but it does not have to be this weekend if you do not feel up to it. Calm down, dear. You are scaring me here." Edward's silky smooth voice lulls me back to the real world slowly. I am surrounded by a prince of America, a butt ton of bodyguards, and a quiet cafeteria full of confused teenagers.

"Come, come." Edward helps me up and links his arm through mine as he leads me to the nurse's office, his face scrunched up adorably in concern. Wait, not adorably.

My eyes feel like they are about to pop right out of my head and I groan, squeezing my them together tightly. I can see the newspaper headlines now. _Prince_ _Edward's_ _untactful choice of words made his patch's eyes explode!_

Edward mutters under his breath and he picks me up without trouble and carries me bridal style to the nurse's office which is right beside the receptionist's office. His heavy steps bounce me roughly and I shake with every step. He might as well be swinging a hammer to my cranium for all the help he's doing.

The receptionist tells us to wait in the room with the bed and we do as we are told. As I lay on the bed, my head rests on Edward's lap as he softly caresses my hair, his thighs creating the perfect pillow. I bat my hand at his, silently telling him to cut it out, but he ignores it and keeps petting me. I am about to hit his hand again when the nurse walks in and gasps, dropping the mug that she was holding.

"Your majesty, I am so sorry for making you wait. I- I apologize for th- the mess, I- I will clean this up!" Her stuttering is extremely annoying and my head hurts really bad. She sweeps the broken glass to the edge of the wall with a broom, then comes over to stand above me with her pen light. "Open your eyes for me, I mean, if you will…. ma'am," she adds the last part as an afterthought. I do as I'm told and she shines her penlight in my eyes and tells me to follow her finger with my eyes. _Well, that's kinda hard to do when I'm being blinded by a freaking light. Gee, let's make the girl who has a bad headache stare at the sun next, that will help her for sure._

The light really hurts my eyes which in turn hurts my head and I am quickly diagnosed after a few more tests.

"Sh- she must have a headache," _no shit_ , "and th- the incident in the cafeteria must have been her having a panic attack." This is directed at Edward, not the girl who has the actual problem.

I can breathe easier now, so I try to sit up on my own. But since the nurse _obviously_ knows better than I do how I'm feeling, she pushes my shoulders back down so that my head is still resting on Edward's lap. I am jolted by her rough hands and press my fingers against my temples, groaning.

"Easy," Edward warns the nurse under his breath as he holds me closer to him. Her eyes grow wide with fear.

Her gaze drops to the floor as she says, "I am sorry, your highness, but I was only trying to help your patch." You can tell that she is straining not to stutter. "I can give her some Advil for her headache, but what will really help is if she is close to you. Patches are always the best medicine." She does, in fact, give me two Advil to take but I am advised to stay close to Edward.

Patches are really the best medicine. They are also the worst death. The endorphins that are let out when someone is happy is amplified when around your corresponding patch, but when one patch is sad or dying, both of them feel the repercussions.

Edward sweetly suggests to the nurse that I take the rest of the day off from school to get better and she is quick to write us a note that excuses us from school. We quickly leave the prison that my peers call school.

Edward carries me to the car, even though I am totally capable of walking, and pretends not to hear me when I tell him that I will castrate him if he even tries to take me anywhere but home. The car ride is silent as he instructs the driver to take us to the local diner.

"I can just eat at home, Edward. I don't want to go to a restaurant for food that I could have cooked better myself," I protest. Honestly, I am just about the worst cook ever, but that is because I don't like to read instructions. I get bossed around so much everyday that I don't care to have words on a paper tell me what to do also.

"I don't care, Isabella. We are going to that restaurant whether you like it or not because I know that you didn't eat your lunch earlier. You need the nutrition, you are too skinny." No such thing, but I don't tell him that.

The rest of the drive to the diner is silent, but once we get to the joint, we start talking like actual friends. Mostly we argue about this and that, but every relationship, platonic and otherwise, is built on communication of some kind. Ours might just be friendly banter. Maybe Edward isn't too bad afterall.

I have a good time and it is much later in the evening when I realize something important.

I am laying in bed, going over the day, when I start to think hard about Edward. I know that I shouldn't have any feelings for him since the only reason he ever even chased me was because of the patch's influence, but I go over my feelings from when I first met him. I hated Edward when I first knew that he was my patch and I his, and maybe I was being a little unfair with that. And now I feel like we have made a sort of friendly connection, sure we have our arguments here and there but they are of no consequence.

Forgive and forget, I always say.

Being in Prince Edward's company is enjoyable and I can't help but think of how this is going to play out in the future. The same question keeps roaming my mind.

 _Are my feelings for Edward changing for better or worse?_

* * *

 **It's been a while, but oh well. Life has been crazy, and I have been bored. Been exercising like crazy to that spring break bod in check. Added an extra 1,000+ words to this chapter by the time I finished it. Kinda late, dontcha think?**

 **Bobbie Reisen: Thanks. I try not to make them** _ **too**_ **bad. Hopefully your opinion doesn't change by the end of this chapter!**

 **Shelly J88: Yes, I am rewriting this after I looked back and felt terror at how it used to be. I was so cocky about "not needing a beta" and I now regret that. I absolutely don't condone abuse, but sometimes my mind just likes to go wonky and try something new. Depression is a serious thing and I admit that I'm not quite catching it and writing it well enough (sorry), but it is hard to write about it since it is a part of my everyday life. I didn't get to see your full comment because FFnet is acting up or you deleted it, but thanks for reviewing.**

 **Melissamary55: I could not, for my own sake, make him speak with Renee. Gotta build up the plot a little more before that happens ;). Thanks for reviewing!**

 **Come on. Press the little button below, I know you want to. Review!**


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